Barren of Itself
by thunder-fish
Summary: Tormented, abused, and discarded by the Fusion Dexter, there was little left for Albedo except revenge. Since the Fusion isn't available, his target is set on the next best thing: Dexter. Getting back at someone, however, isn't always quite as easy as it may seem, especially when Ben10 has something to say about it. Contains Ben/Dexter slash.
1. Prologue: RomanceAdventure

**Barren of Itself**

by thunder-fish

_Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair. - _Friedrich Schiller

**_()()()()()()()()()()_**

_A/__N This picks up where 'Seconds to Shatter' ends. It contains slash, but nothing graphic. If that's not to your taste, consider this your final warning. All characters belong to their respective owners, meaning I get to keep none of them. _**_  
_**

**Prologue: Romance/Adventure**

_"Oh, Ben!" cried Dexter, placing one small, trembling hand over his own racing heart and reaching out to grasp Ben's arm with the other. "Oh, Ben," he repeated, his lashes beaded with tears as he looked up into Ben's emerald orbs. His cerulean eyes shone bright and though he tried to speak normally, the best he could manage was a throaty whisper as he confessed, "I love you."_

_Wonder and joy filled Ben's face as he stared wide-eyed at the handsome young genius. Could it be? Was this real? Had all his hopes and dreams come true in this moment? It was too wonderful, too amazing and sweet to be believed. For a few seconds he could only stare, and then he pulled Dexter into his arms and said the words he'd been longing to say:_

_"I love you, too, Dexter."_

_It was as if time had stopped for the two lovers. As the ship burned around them, they were lost in one another's gaze. It wasn't until the ship lurched, throwing Dexter full length against Ben, that they came back to the danger threatening their lives and their new-found love. Fear shone in Dexter's sky-blue eyes as Ben clutched him close, trying to shield him with his own body. The Titan-haired youth cried out_, "_No! This isn't fair! I won't_- Benjamin, stop that. This is no laughing matter. We're about to meet our doom."

Ben lowered his hands from his face, unable to stop laughing at the notion that he had emerald orbs versus green eyes. Since he was still stuck in the hospital wing he was trying his best to be quiet, but it was hopeless. The last thing he had ever expected when Dexter arrived for his usual visit was a dramatic reading of one of Bubbles' Bexter fanfics. The cheesy dialogue and the over-the-top, poetic descriptions, all delivered in Dexter's thick accent and deadpan tone of voice, was far more than Ben Tennyson could handle or contain. Beside him, Dexter sat stony-faced, and one glance at the Titan-haired youth was quite enough to set him off again. Dexter yanked a pillow from beneath Ben's head to playfully smack him with it. Grabbing it, he crushed it to his face with both hands, trying to stifle the hysterics. Finally, exhausted, he emerged.

"How are you not laughing your ass off?" panted Ben faintly.

"Iron self-discipline," was the ruthless reply, delivered in a perfectly bland voice.

"You're Titan-haired?"

"Everyone knows the Titans were redheads. It makes for better epic reading than carrot-topped. Nobody wants a ginger god."

As Ben snorted and fought for a little bit of control, Dexter cleared his throat and found where he had left off.

_"No! This isn't fair! I won't lose you now that I know you love me back, Ben!"_

_"I loved you from the moment I saw you, Dexter! And I promise I'll get you out of here."_

_"But how, Ben?"_

_The chocolate-haired teen gripped Dexter's arms in a firm grasp. "Dexter, do you trust me?"_

"Do I really say your name that much, Dexter?" asked Ben.

The genius never skipped a beat. "No, Ben, you don't. Nor does your hair taste like chocolate. Resuming: _Completely, my love."_

_"Then hold on! I'm going to go hero!"_

That cut it. Ben Tennyson was done for. Laughing so hard he could barely draw a breath, he waved at Dexter to get him to stop before he pulled a muscle. Dexter stared at him, and the Great Sphinx or a moai could not hope to rival his stony expression.

"Ben, please. Control yourself. I'm only two pages into the saga. There are thirty-eight more to go, and this is just the first installment of Bubbles' latest _magnum opus_. We haven't gotten to the part where Mandark tries to steal my affections and failing that, poisons you."

Ben wheezed, sprawling on the soft bed. There were tears in his eyes. Dexter smacked him over the head with the stack of pages.

"Stop that. Crying is apparently _my _prerogative. By the looks of things, I average one irrational tear-up every five to six pages."

"What are you cryin' about, Dex?"

"You, mostly. You spend a lot of the story hovering near death."

"Hopefully life won't imitate art. Skip to the part where you stick your tongue in my ear."

He snorted. "Please. This is Bubbles. The love scenes are pure vanilla and completely sanitized. The only thing that gets naked here is the truth."

"Says the guy who likes to have his back scrubbed in the shower." Ben shifted so his head hung off the side of the bed, allowing him to watch Dexter upside-down.

"Stretching?" wondered the Boy Genius.

"Change of venue." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "How about you read between the lines and give me a sample of French vanilla?"

The younger teen pretended to glare over the brim of the paper he held. "You just want my tongue in your ear."

"Guilty as charged. Ear, mouth, I'm not fussy. Just not up my nose."

Dexter made a face. "Not even I'm going there." He held up the fanfic. "Shall I?"

"Fire away. I'd rather die from laughing than boredom."

"Mmm. If you're going to die, you may as well have fun. So. _Keeping one arm tight around Dexter's shoulders, the Wielder of the Omnitrix quickly activated the alien device even as an explosion from the dying vessel tore through the cell detaining them. . ."_

Confined to a bed after surgery on his shoulder, Ben Tennyson was being uncommonly patient in the hopes that Dr. Cardon would develop something like mercy and release him to Professor Utonium's care. A checkup later today with the head of DexLabs Medical would determine if he was going to go home with Dexter to finish recovery and – something he wasn't looking forward to – start physical therapy, or be stuck where he was doing physical therapy.

The encounter with Albedo had messed his shoulder up to the point where surgery was a necessity. The encounter with Kevin, on the other hand, had been somewhat therapeutic. Seeing Dexter blow Levin clean out of the water - and all in the name of _don't you mess with my boyfriend_- had definitely been a highlight of Ben's teenage years. Upon returning to Downtown, he had been whisked away to DexLabs Medical where he'd basically signed away his life to Dr. Cardon. The doctor had resisted the urge to strangle Ben for his own good before subjecting him to every test and scan known to science. The end results were completely expected. Ben had been given two choices: surgery now to repair the damage to tendons and rotator cuff followed by physical therapy for a few weeks and months with the expectation of full recovery, or weeks and months of pain and physical therapy followed by surgery followed by yet more physical therapy with the expectation of partial recovery because you were an idiot and put off a necessary procedure.

Couched in such inelegant terms (Cardon obviously didn't write fanfic), Ben had decided to save himself a lot of grief and dirty looks (not to mention pain) and opted for surgery now. He was glad he had – he was feeling better already, though the forced bed rest was getting to him and the physical therapy was not fun. The memory of what Dexter had endured after Vilgax's attack, however, kept him from complaining too much. No matter how bad he thought he had it, Dexter's situation had been worse, a lot worse, and the effects were still being felt.

At sixteen years old, Dexter should have been Ben's height, or at least close to it. All the annoyances of having his voice break and growing pains and the other joys of puberty should have been making his life a living hell. So many things should have been, but were not. It was strange that physical maturity (since intellect-wise Dexter was a grown adult) would be of secondary importance, but it was. Ben was so grateful and relieved that Dexter was alive. Knowing his boyfriend would not age normally bothered Ben not at all, though he knew it disappointed Dexter. The Professor was optimistic that Dexter's system would stabilize and return to normal once the hormone treatment was finished, giving the redhead a chance of getting a little taller, at least. Ben smiled. He liked the sheer smallness of Dexter, though heaven knew the kid needed to eat more.

Still dangling off the bed, Ben could see just a tuft of unruly Titan-colored hair over the top of the paper and small hands in purple gloves - no, wait, _amethyst_ _gauntlets_. It was Dexter's voice that held his attention though, and for once that insane accent wasn't involved. It was a child's voice, a little high-pitched, with inflection and stresses that defied all sense. Ben just listened, happier than he'd ever been as he let that voice charm him, thinking that he could listen to Dexter read to him forever.

Forever. The word struck Ben. He was thinking about forever with Dexter. A lifetime of listening to that childish voice read fanfic to him. Would it ever be enough? Forever. With Dexter. Yes. It fit. It worked. He wanted it.

Awkward for being upside down, Ben fumbled to grab the page out of Dexter's hands, then had to content himself with simply pulling the page down so he could see the younger teen. Dexter paused, waiting to see what his boyfriend wanted of him. He stared, taking in the fair skin and bright eyes and pert features. Yeah. He could grow old with that.

"I love you," he whispered, meaning it as never before.

Dexter looked at him curiously, plainly wondering what epiphany had brought on this declaration. A small smile teased his lips as he said in kind, "I love you too, Ben."

He felt himself grin and almost started laughing again as he realized Dexter thought he was referencing the story. Growing serious he said, "I mean that."

The genius' expression softened. "So do I."

"Guess Bubbles isn't too far off the mark."

"No, just excessively maudlin and dramatic."

"So I really don't have emerald orbs?"

Dexter leaned in for a closer look, his own eyes narrowing behind tinted glasses. "Mmm . . . no. More like chlorophyll. Much sexier to a biologist."

"You romantic devil. Kiss me."

He shook his head. "Someone might see."

"But they probably won't."

If nothing else, Dexter was not afraid to take risks, and at that moment he took one, raising the printout to block them from sight of anyone that might be passing by the hospital room. So Ben not only got what he wanted, but this time, at least, he was absolutely right.


	2. Fantasy Friction

**Chapter 1: Fantasy / Friction  
**

He tried to raise his head, but all he managed was to stir slightly. The place where he lay was cold and damp and he could not easily recall how or why he came to be here. Movement brought pain, and it was better to keep still and assess his situation before trying to participate in it.

_**()()()()()()()()()()**_

_He stared into the steaming cup of coffee, trying to distract himself with an exercise in thermodynamics by calculating how long it would take before the liquid was at room temperature. He would never get an answer, because he was far more interested in drinking the coffee than seeing if he was right._

_Another mug of coffee was set on the table as his father joined him. The Professor smiled, and Dexter knew that something in his expression piqued his father's interest._

_"What's on your mind?" was his quiet greeting._

_Dexter sighed and tightly replied, "I'm sixteen years old and my drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend is living with us. You _know_ what's on my mind, Dad."_

_"Ah." He hid a smile behind his coffee mug, gulping the hot liquid as Mr. Green came into the lounge for his own dose of caffeine. "Friction."_

_Dexter grumbled in agreement, grateful that the Professor was not the sort to get uptight over his desire for a sex life and his growing frustration at the lack thereof. Catching that last word, Green turned, coffee pot in hand as he came to refresh their cups. "Friction?" he asked, ever the teacher. "That's not in your lesson plan until February unless you have some specific questions."_

_"Uh, no, I'm good, thank you very much," Dexter hastened to say, making a face at his father. Utonium chuckled, but his sympathy was evident. He waited for the demon to leave before speaking._

_"I hear you. I was sixteen once too."_

_"Yeah, but was your boyfriend sleeping two rooms down from you?"_

_"Well, no, but then I never had a boyfriend."_

_"Fair enough."_

_"You're frustrated. I know. It doesn't help that Ben's been through so much lately."_

_"No help at all," he agreed through clenched teeth._

_"Patience, Dexter. Ben needs time. It's not easy, but it'll be worth the wait."_

_"It had better be."_

_"If not, it's a good excuse to practice 'til you get it right."_

_A little snort escaped the redhead and he ducked his head as he laughed at his father's very matter-of-fact tone. Finally he looked up with a smile._

_"I'm so glad I have you," said the teen in a moment of undisguised love._

_Utonium gazed at him with the same depth of adoration, saluting with his coffee mug. "Ditto."_

_**()()()()()()()()()()**_

The ground beneath him was cold and uneven and gritty. He could smell dirt – something he rarely encountered – and an underlying whiff of sulfur and rot. Was it stone beneath him? Hard-packed earth? It didn't matter. He kept his eyes closed, afraid to see what he knew would be there: darkness. It was one of the many things he desperately wished he didn't fear, but he had come to accept the fact that he had phobias the way most people had petty annoyances. In some situations and on some days, he was practically used to a steady state of anxiety. Had he been feeling one whit better, he would have been consumed by his phobias right now because this setting addressed many of the things he feared: dark, dirt, germs, an unknown place, being removed from the few people he trusted. It was a terrifying prospect for him.

_**()()()()()()()()()()**_

_Dexter had never thought it would come to this._

_He was thoroughly, completely jealous of a smoothie.  
_

_A banana-orange smoothie, to be exact. Ben had gotten it from the cafeteria in DexLabs and now sat in the laboratory, keeping Dexter company and practically making love to it. Not a smoothie aficionado, Dexter had to take Ben's word that the DexLabs version was almost as good as the ones from Mr. Smoothie. Dexter tried not to look as a little hum of pleasure rose up from Ben's location by the environmental control unit, but it was Ben and he could not resist even if he knew he'd regret it._

_Eyes closed, smoothie clasped close to his chest, Ben sipped on the straw with something close to hedonistic pleasure. His long legs were stretched out before him and he was thoroughly relaxed and open, as sensuous as he was serene. Staring at those lips, those hands, the expression of pure enjoyment, Dexter felt his blood pressure on the rise. He shouldn't have looked, but how could he not? It was Ben, after all, and there was no getting enough of him even if watching him was enough to drive Dexter mad._

_The past few weeks had ranked high among the happiest times of Dexter's life. He had never known such complete bliss before. Having Ben living here at DexLabs was about as close to paradise as things could get on this plane. They had breakfast together with the girls and the Professor every morning before Ben went off to physical therapy and training recruits while Dexter had classes and ran his company. In the evenings Ben would annoy Dexter as he did homework or caught up on work. From the start Ben had established eight o'clock as quitting time for all things sciencey. The evening might belong to DexLabs, but the night belonged to Bexter._

_Ownership, however, was not all that Dexter would have liked. Since reestablishing their relationship, things had been moving along at a slow but steady pace until Kevin Levin's assault had put the kibosh on progress. At least progress in the sense of getting a bit more action than necking and cuddling (though he had a fine assortment of hickeys, thank you, Mr. Tennyson). It was a difficult situation, and now that so much exposure to Ben had erased all uncertainty and doubt, Dexter had a much better understanding of what his boyfriend had been feeling toward him up to the point where Levin had tried to force himself on Ben. Want was the best word he could come up with to describe what he was feeling. It was all-consuming, at once delicious and infuriating. He wanted Ben, his touch and heat. It seemed only natural that things should move toward -_

Sex, Dex. The word you're looking for is s-e-x, sex.

_"Shut up," muttered Dexter to Ben's voice in his head. The one thing he wanted most right now was the one thing he couldn't ask for. Ben had to make that first move. There was nothing else for it._

_Now more than ever, he really wanted to kill Kevin Levin._

_"Hmm?" asked Ben in a dreamy hum. "Who you talking to, Dex?"_

_"Myself," he snapped, mentally kicking himself for speaking aloud._

_Ben frowned. "But . . . you didn't say anything."_

_"It was preemptive."_

_"Ah."_

_"Yeah. Ah."_

_A smile lit his boyfriend's face, and Dexter almost screamed in frustration as Ben wrapped his lips around that straw again and sucked down more of that damned smoothie. He swallowed when Ben did, and he could not have focused on the fighter he was designing if his life depended on it. So much for science. Love - or lust - apparently did conquer all._

_"You okay?" Ben asked after a moment of being stared at like he was a t-bone and Dexter hadn't seen food in a month._

_No, he wasn't. Not even slightly. He had never imagined he'd fall prey to the very normal, very human desire to get laid, and that realization was shocking and mildly appalling._

_"I need a shower."_

_Green eyes - or were they emerald orbs? - grew wide and eager. Instantly he volunteered, "Want your back scrubbed?"_

_"Among other things."_

_Needless to say, Ben brought the smoothie into the shower with him._

_The next day, disaster struck._

_The smoothie machine broke._

_**()()()()()()()()()()**_

Mastering himself and his fears, Dexter opened his eyes. The darkness was not as complete as he'd expected. There was a faint glow that became more pronounced the longer he stared. Details of his location and situation were vague yet, but he recognized the form moving toward him, silhouetted against the light, and he felt a rush of relief.

"Ben?"

_**()()()()()()()()()()**_

_The moment Ben got the tragic news, withdrawal set in. Death was imminent but avoidable, and only one cure was available. So it was a mission of mercy that prompted them to elude Dexter's many keepers and sneak out of DexLabs for smoothies._

_Dexter still needed to walk slowly for any great distance, and Ben shortened his pace to match the younger teen's. Mr. Smoothie's was little more than a mile outside of DexLabs, and while Big Chill could have flown them there in a minute, Dexter preferred a more mundane mode of transportation that allowed him to enjoy his boyfriend's company. They walked close together; close enough to occasionally brush against one another in silent display that anyone watching would have taken as accidental contact. Despite their focus on one another, both young men stayed alert, Ben especially since he was responsible for talking Dexter into stepping out of his laboratory. Dexter knew perfectly well that he was going to be in a world of trouble when he returned to DexLabs - if his father or Mr. Green or Sgt. Morton didn't send every security guard on the force out to haul him back in - but for him it was worth getting grounded to make Ben happy. Tennyson, meanwhile, had signed his own death warrant with Dr. Cardon by using the Omnitrix to transform into Big Chill long enough to fly them off the campus. Under the radar they were not, and so they enjoyed this brief taste of freedom all the more because they knew it wouldn't last._

_"So, Ben," Dexter said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "if you could do anything in the world tonight, what would it be?"_

_"Anything?" queried Ben._

_Dexter smiled and repeated, "Anything."_

_Ben thought for a few moments, a smile playing on his lips and sly mischief in his green eyes. He had a good idea of what was going through the younger teen's mind of late and he had slowly built up the nerve to try to do something to accommodate them both. He knew Dexter was waiting for him, and he was immensely grateful for the space and patience he had been afforded since . . . Kevin._

_"Anything? Anything at all?" he confirmed._

_That gleam in his eyes told Dexter that this was not going to remain clean for very long. He nodded, waiting for his boyfriend to try and shock him._

_"Blueberry and lemon smoothie," listed Ben, sneaking a glance at the redhead. "Then we go back to your rooms and spend an hour or three in the shower and then go have wildsexuntilyouscreammyname and after that order a pizza and eat it all andthenhavesexagain."_

_"What was that last?" pressed Dexter innocently._

_"Havesexagain," Ben repeated in a rush, as if saying it quickly would lessen the impact._

_Putting on a thoughtful mien, Dexter very seriously asked, "What toppings on the pizza?"_

_Not about to be out-cooled by a Titan-haired genius in glasses and more than capable of playing this game, Ben immediately said, "Pepperoni."_

_"Mmm."_

_"Black olives."_

_"Good."_

_"Onions."_

_"Yum."_

_"Green peppers."_

_It was like slamming on the brakes. The scientist stopped in his tracks._

_"Oh, no, Mr. Tennyson." Dexter raised his gloved hands in protest. "No green peppers for you."_

_"I love green peppers!"_

_"That's as may be, but I for one don't love what they do to your digestion."_

_"Hey! What are you saying here?"_

_"You know what I'm talking about!"_

_He looked down at his stomach, then at his companion. "You're insulting my digestive system?"_

_Trying hard not to laugh, Dexter said, "Yes. It's rude."_

_Ben clasped his arms around his middle as if shielding his belly from further affronts. Dexter made a face at the overly dramatic show._

_"It's not your stomach I have issue with, nor your stomach which has issue, for that matter." He pointed a purple-gloved finger. "You'll notice the Professor hasn't served chili the whole time you've been here."_

_"Hey, whose fantasy is being wrecked here?"_

_"Fantasy?" he wondered. "Not wrecked. Adjusted." He stamped his foot. "Einstein's sake, just pick a different topping!"_

_"Uh-uh. Green peppers or the whole deal's off."_

_Dexter stared, flabbergasted._

_"What?" demanded Ben, not over the slurs cast at his innards but knowing a gaping Dexter was leading to some sort of revelation. "My fantasy, Dex. What have I got to lose?"_

_There was a prolonged pause as Dexter struggled to find the words. Finally he managed to ask, "Uh . . . virginity?"_

"What?"

_Hardly able to believe his ears, Dexter asked, "Really, Ben? You'd forgo multiple rounds of wild sex for a few slices of green pepper?"_

_He paused, alerted by Dexter's tone. Though he spoke lightly, the genius was serious, as much about what pizza topping to order as about fulfilling Ben's wish. Talk of pizza was simply an oblique approach to the greater, much-anticipated promise of . . . sex. With Dexter. As his brain caught up with his body, Ben felt his heart speed up and a few other physical attributes quicken in turn as he eagerly ordered,_

_"Define multiple."_

_"More than two?" suggested the redhead, watching closely to see if Ben was coming around to his way of thinking._

_Ben was silent, pulling a few faces as he turned over the conversation in his mind. Raising a finger, he drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said, "Allow me to rephrase my answer."_

_"Of course. Would you like me to repeat the question?"_

_"Please."_

_"Mr. Tennyson, if you could do anything in the world tonight, what would it be?"_

_Without hesitation he said, "I'd do you."_

_He was rewarded with a sly, almost coy smile. "I have the Downtown Pizzeria on speed dial. And while we're on the subject of topping . . ."_

_He was positively dizzy as he asked, "Yes?"_

_Dexter beamed. "Thank you for volunteering."_

_His imagination exploded into action as the vast majority of his fantasies started coming true. "I really like where this conversation is going, Dex. Are you sure?"_

_In all seriousness, Dexter answered with a question of his own. "Are you?"_

_He heard all the unasked questions, all the worry and deep concern. Was he past Kevin's attack? Was he ready for a step this huge? There was no going back from something like this. Ben was certain that Dexter, despite being almost three years younger, was more than ready. Heck, if Kevin hadn't happened, they probably would have crossed this bridge – this lovely, wonderful, frightening, exciting bridge – months ago. Still, Dexter was a minor and given his small build, Ben couldn't help but think of him as fragile even if he had shown time and again that he was as tough as nails._

_"Only if you are."_

_"_Very_ sure," promised Dexter._

_It was all a matter of waiting for the right moment and getting up the nerve to try. Ben knew that only because he felt exactly the same way. They had been together a lot lately - more than they'd ever enjoyed since meeting each other - and such regular, close proximity to Dexter had stirred a lot of emotion in Ben, not to mention a burning hunger that called for more than a few kisses to satisfy. Both of them had known all along that they would come to this point, and both knew to proceed with care, but the simple fact that they were pushing the relationship up a notch was stimulation in and of itself._

_"Let's," he said just as softly, his heart thrilling to the happy gleam he saw in Dexter's eyes. He let out a little laugh, trying not to sound too eager or hysterical when he actually felt giddy and almost out of control with excitement. "We could, y'know, skip the smoothie."_

_Scandalized shock was Dexter's response. "To think I have lived to hear you utter such blasphemy, Benjamin Kirby Tennyson. You intend to kiss me with that mouth?"_

_"Uh-huh. Kiss and lick and a few other things I don't want to mention in public."_

_"A compromise. We'll get smoothies and walk right back, before my dad kills us both."_

_"Seeing as how dying would be massively inconvenient to our pizza party later . . . between . . . yeah. Let's."_

**_()()()()()()()()()()_**

Despite the pain in his head he stirred, sitting up partially. Dexter whispered, afraid of being overheard. "Where are we? What happened? What is this place? Ben?" he asked again when no answer was forthcoming.

The form stood before him, his stance unaccountably aggressive as he looked down. When he spoke, the voice was familiar even if the tone was not.

"Not Ben," sneered Albedo, poison in his voice as he glared down at the young man he had captured. "Not Tennyson."


	3. Horror

**Chapter 2: Horror**  
**  
**  
Back when he was twelve, in that short but blissful period of time when DexLabs was in its infancy (and being run out of the Professor's basement) and Planet Fusion was just an interesting smudge on the furthest outskirts of the solar system, Dexter had taken what he felt at the time was the oddest and possibly most useless course of instruction ever. The Professor had protested, Sgt. Morton had insisted, and Mr. Green had cast the deciding vote and signed them all up without giving them the option to refuse. Thus Dexter, his guardian, his bodyguard, and his tutor were given an FBI-run course on how to behave during a hostage situation or kidnapping.

Not that Chip Morton, former Navy SEAL and experienced submariner, or Mr. Green, who as a Fire Demon could instantly teleport himself in a pillar of flames, needed any such instruction. Left to his own devices, Dexter was fairly certain his adopted father could charm anyone into submission. No, Hostage 101 had been held entirely for his benefit, and despite his doubts at the time he was grateful for his security chief's stubbornness (not to mention his advice to put his ego on a back burner for the duration of his captivity - probably the hardest aspect of any such situation in which Dexter might find himself entangled, such as now).

Be polite. Obey orders. Eat and drink what's offered and thank them afterwards. Watch. Listen. Engage them in conversation. Don't lie. Don't complain. Try to make them see you as a person, not a thing. Do whatever you must to stay alive. The list of instructions went on and on, all geared toward keeping alive long enough to be found and rescued.

In his youth and over-confidence, Dexter had never imagined actually using any of what he had learned that day (especially the 'rein in your ego' part). If anyone was prone to being kidnapped, he would have pointed to his father without hesitation. Given that the Professor was father to three ultra-super-powered heroes, it just seemed a reasonable assumption that he'd be a soft target. As he slowly sat up in the dark and dirty tunnel where he now found himself, Dexter ruefully admitted (and would do so only to himself) that he had been wrong and that hostage course was going to stand him in good stead. By the end of the day, it might even prove to be the most important thing he had ever learned.

He stared at the slim figure standing before him, barely able to make out his features. His first impression was right – this _was_ Ben, but not. Clearly he was no Fusion – Ben's Fusion was incapable of speech and rarely stood up straight. That could only mean one thing.

"You are Albedo."

He said it as a matter of fact, giving the young man every chance to contradict him, but the only answer he received was a sneer as Albedo turned away from him. With what little light there was in this hole, Dexter was able to see his profile – Ben's profile - capped by silver-white hair. He had Ben's body and Ben's grace, but his posture lacked that hint of cocky self-assurance that many people found abrasive and Dexter found completely enchanting.

"What is this place?"

Ben had told Mandy and the other leaders in the Fusion War everything he knew about Albedo, from how he came to be exiled from Galvan Prime to becoming Ben's twin to the alleged abuses he had received after being made prisoner by the Fusion Dexter during the Battle of Citiesville. It was a sad and lonely litany, made all the worse by Albedo's inability to deal with life as a human, though Ben was inclined to believe his unwilling double hadn't given it much effort. The Fusion Dexter, it seemed, had ripped apart his mind as much as his body, leaving deep scars on both. Seeing him now, looking so much like Ben, Dexter would have felt pity for Albedo if only he had not cracked him over the head and kidnapped him.

"Why am I here, Albedo?"

His eyes had adjusted to the shadows. Even so, it was difficult to tell for certain where he was. It seemed a tunnel of sorts, or a deep cave, with rough walls and hard-packed floor. The atmosphere was damp, and the air was stale. He tried not to sound frightened as he asked,

"What do you want with me?"

Slowly Albedo turned, giving Dexter a view of his face. It took every bit of self-control the scientist possessed to keep from gasping aloud. The right side of Albedo's face was horribly disfigured – burns, from acid perhaps, reached from his temple down his neck and it looked as if an animal with talons had slashed his jaw. The wounds were not fully healed and looked painful beyond words. Albedo's right eye was creased in a permanent squint and he did not have as much control over the muscles in that half of his face as the other.

"What happened to you?" breathed Dexter, unable to stop himself.

He glared. "You did."

"_Me?"_ wondered Dexter, taken aback. He knew perfectly well he had never before come into contact with the Galvan criminal and he certainly would not have had any dealings with him. He had no direct involvement in business transactions conducted by DexLabs or DexCorp. Not being old enough to enter into contracts, his contributions were strictly, legally limited to consultations and nothing more. Of course his word on projects was final, but refusals and changes he requested happened only behind closed doors and his name never appeared on paperwork or during negotiations. "I don't understand."

"How convenient," was the sharp reply. It was disconcerting to hear Ben's voice full of such venom, especially directed at him. "You've insulated yourself against the world and against all blame."

Did Albedo have any notion of the irony of his statement? The situation he now found himself in was exactly _why_ he had removed himself as much as possible from the world. Still, he was being accused, but of what he had no idea.

"And how . . . did I happen to you?" he carefully asked, his voice rising in a small squeak. He was not sure it was precisely wise to pursue this topic, but he needed to know where he stood with this alien. A horrible thought stuck him, sending a jolt of alarm through him that seemed to settle in his stomach. Pain flared in his head as a result and his vision swam with light for a moment. In faint tones he suggested, "I think, perhaps, you have me confused with my Fusion."

Albedo looked at him with undisguised contempt, striding forward to seize Dexter by the front of his lab coat, shaking him with fury. Dexter recoiled, as much as at the unwelcome touch as at the sight of Albedo's wounds seen so close.

"Do you actually think I can't tell the difference between a Fusion and a lowly human?" snarled the young man. Dexter glanced down. Albedo's right hand bore the same burns as his face. He must have been in agony - if he could even still feel anything beneath those burns. "I've had far too much experience with both to ever mistake one for the other!"

He finished his tirade by striking Dexter hard across the face with his closed fist. His head was already aching, and this assault was too much for him. Dexter hit the ground, tasting blood. The whole world seemed to be spinning and panic seized his imagination. This was unreal. It could not be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Why couldn't he wake up? How had he come here, to this? Where was Ben? Where was he?

"Get up," ordered Albedo.

If only he could. When Dexter didn't move, a rough hand seized him by the hair, yanking his head up to make him look at Albedo. The silver-haired young man gazed at him, assessing him keenly and enjoying his helpless state. The Galvan reached out with a finger that was scarred and raw to dab the blood at the corner of Dexter's mouth. He tried to twist away, revolted to be touched by anything so dirty and oozing, but like Ben, Albedo was bigger and stronger than he and he was not permitted to escape. He could not imagine what Albedo was thinking as he looked at the blood sliding down his finger, but when he delicately smeared the drop of red on the lenses of his glasses, Dexter knew that Albedo was insane.

"You look just like him," said Albedo, his features hardening as he recalled his captivity. The expression was unbalanced and difficult for him to maintain. "You _are_ just like him. The same accent. The same arrogance. The only difference is you can suffer."

Desperately, Dexter shook his head - or tried to. "No," he breathed. "I'm nothing like him."

"Oh?" wondered Albedo with false surprise. "So you're not interested in the workings of the Omnitrix? You're not a genius? For a human," he allowed impatiently, his grip tightening to a point that made Dexter gasp in pain. "You have no interest in winning this war? Or in Tennyson?"

If he had asked for a summary of all his foremost obsessions, he could not have been given a neater or more concise list. At a loss for words, Dexter struggled to recover. He had hardly expected to have to defend himself against the arguments of a madman, and anything he said would be flung back in his teeth.

"Well?"

"I'm not a monster."

Albedo rolled his eyes in a very human gesture of disgust. "I'm sure your Fusion feels the same way. Do you actually think I care?"

That was a question he was in no way inclined to answer. Instead he countered with his own in a rather desperate attempt to comprehend what was happening.

"What do you want with me?"

"The Fusion wouldn't exist without you," mused Albedo. "Just as I wouldn't have this form but for Tennyson. For everything that happened, for everything that creature did to me, you two are to blame."

That was an interesting take on the situation. Dexter resisted the temptation to point out that if Albedo hadn't tried time and again to steal the Omnitrix from Ben, not only would he still have his original form, but he would not have crossed paths with what was undoubtedly the worst, most perverse and powerful of all the Fusions. Ben considered Albedo little more than a smart, spoiled brat (which some would argue was a fair description of Dexter, save that the Boy Genius had the sense not only to be somewhat diplomatic, but to be dating Ben and thus elevating such colorful descriptors to pet names) and for the most part treated him accordingly, but it seemed that Ben had underestimated his double's determination . . . not to mention his sanity. There was something else Ben had said about the Galvan – he refused to own his mistakes, but tried to pawn them off on whoever was most convenient regardless of the consequences.

It seemed Dexter was about to find out what that felt like. So far it had not been in any way pleasant, and he couldn't imagine that the situation would improve. His heart seemed to faint in his chest as he stared through blood-smeared glasses at this twisted and broken copy of the young man he loved so completely. Red eyes glared at him, their gleam so different and frightening from the gentle, playful look he so often got from Ben.

What had happened?

How had he come to this?

Where was Ben?


	4. Angst

**Chapter 3: Angst  
**

He felt rather like a museum piece or some prized possession on display as Albedo slowly circled around him. Was he pinpointing similarities to his Fusion counterpart? He had no notion of what to make of this situation, where to go from this point, and it took all his effort to keep his phobias at bay, given the damp, dark, and dirty setting. It was imperative that he maintain control of himself, especially since his every instinct was calling for blind panic.

And especially since Albedo did not seem interested in controlling himself.

As his kidnapper looked him over – an intimidating and frightening tactic if he let it get to him - Dexter took a moment to check his person, assessing his physical condition and any resources left to him. Having something to focus on besides crazed red eyes went far towards calming him, and he was careful to keep his breathing in check, especially when Albedo stepped behind him, out of his line of vision.

He had a headache, the sort caused by getting cracked on the back of the skull by something hard and heavy. Certainly he'd blown himself across the lab often enough to recognize blunt trauma at its best. Getting struck in the face and being held by his hair hadn't helped his cause, either. He was probably mildly concussed, too, a state with which he was well acquainted.

His right leg ached, especially below the knee, but that was nothing unusual. It had ached since Vilgax had destroyed the Speed Demon, and he expected that one way or another, the injury was going to bother him the rest of life. That he might be cut off from the treatment to stop his growth was of concern, though not an immediate problem. The doctors had been slowly easing him off the hormones to see if his system would stabilize on its own and if the leg bones Vilgax had shattered would grow normally. While no expert, Dexter estimated he had a few days before the lack made itself known. He could only hope he wouldn't pitch his usual hormone-driven hissy fit when his body and brain fell out of synch. When those treatments weren't timed perfectly, the least thing could frustrate him to the point of exploding.

For a moment he thought longingly of Ben, praying he was unharmed and free and knowing that he would be desperately anxious to get him back. He tried to recall if Ben could have noticed anything of what happened, if there was any hope of being followed and saved. The fact that he was still here, in the clutches of this sad and addled Galvan outcast, told him otherwise, and despair for Ben filled him as he tried to imagine what, if anything his boyfriend could do short of surrendering to hopelessness.

**_()()()()()()()()()()_**

_"Strawberry?" Ben confirmed, despairing of Dexter's lack of daring and variety when it came to the culinary delights of a smoothy._

_"Strawberry," insisted Dexter. _

_"Mint? Lemon? Banana? Chocolate chips in there?"_

_"Strawberry, Benjamin."_

_"Live a little, Dex!"_

_"I intend to live a lot tonight provided we ever make it back to DexLabs. If you don't get a move on, Mandy will figure out I'm gone and have me arrested the moment we get back."_

_"Pfft - screw Mandy!"_

_Dexter glared, a stern and fierce look that Ben loved as he softly hissed, "If you screw anything, Mr. Tennyson, it had better be me."_

_Ben grinned. "Promise. You coming in?"_

_An eyebrow was arched in his general direction. "Not in _there_," he said with inarguable finality._

_The handful of kids at Mr. Smoothy was, to Dexter, as good as a crowd and the lack of sterilization inside the facility was quite enough to make him hyperventilate. There was no way Dexter was going to step one foot closer to the fast food joint and Ben knew it. He steered Dexter to one of the picnic tables set up on the lawn. It was close to a row of pine trees lining the edge of a playing field and visible from inside the restaurant._

_"Wait right here. I'll be back in five minutes. Maybe six. Don't move."_

_"I'll be waiting. Right here. For you, Ben," he answered, dropping his voice a little with each word, all the while staring into bright green eyes._

_Ben opened his mouth, raising a finger as he tried to formulate a reply._

_"Hurry back," finished Dexter._

_He swallowed, nodded, and waved his hand in a useless gesture. "Right back," he stammered. "Just . . . yeah."_

_Picking the cleanest spot he could find, he perched on the edge of the table and watched his boyfriend head off to get them smoothies. Ben glanced back, casting a quick wave Dexter's way and smiling in happy anticipation. There was a spring in his step as he loped up the steps to the entrance and held the door for a few girls as they exited. Dexter sighed and leaned on his hand, mesmerized by long legs and tight jeans. When Ben glanced his way again before hurrying inside, Dexter felt a confusion of emotions from shy to flustered to excited to a nameless, burning flutter in his stomach at the thought of giving in to the desire that had driven them both. Why now, tonight, he couldn't say. It was something more complex than being tired of waiting or denying himself something he desperately wanted. _

_He wanted to give Ben everything Kevin Levin would have taken. He wanted to give him innocence and choice and pleasure, and he wanted Ben to see how much it meant to be the one to do these things for him. Perhaps it was just a question of wanting to cement the commitment they had made to one another the morning after that first, marvelous and daring kiss. Certainly he wanted to give Ben a sampling of what he'd find waiting for him back home, because it was inevitable that Commander Tennyson would be back in action very soon - and Dexter hoped to make that _action_ in every sense of the word. Ben was healing rapidly, both physically and emotionally. Dexter was glad to see the change in his spirits even though he knew they would be saying goodbye all too soon. Gloom was sure to follow hot on the heels of Ben's departure, and he rather hoped that sexual frustration would trump depression. Yearning for Ben was far more appealing than wallowing in misery, thank you. Not that either would be fun, but he'd much rather be fueling fantasies he knew his boyfriend would be very happy to fulfill versus hiding in his bedroom refusing to eat._

_Lost in thought, he watched and waited for Ben to reappear, grateful for the patient indulgence Ben so often granted him when his legion of phobias came into play. He was afraid of being outside, true, but crowds and germs were worse than unfiltered air and pollen and a few minutes wouldn't do him any harm. He was fortunate indeed to have found someone that understood having phobias - he and Ben shared an intense fear of clowns, and so Ben never doubted or questioned or got annoyed when Dexter grew frightened of strange or even commonplace things. Besides, Ben was also terrified of peacocks to a degree that eclipsed Dexter's fear of most animals. That Ben Tennyson of all people should fear peacocks was quite beyond Dexter's imaginings, but he had sworn to throw himself between Ben and any rampaging pheasants they ever encountered. _

_He smiled at the notion of saving Ben from a bird, then steered his mind away from the fact that he was outdoors. Perhaps a shower was in order. That might be a very good lead-in. They could start by undressing one another very, very slowly . . . _

_"Dexter?"_

_He jumped and turned, startled to hear Ben's voice coming from the row of trees behind him. He looked back at the Mr. Smoothy, but could see no sign of his boyfriend inside the building. Why would Ben circle around? How had he managed it? It wasn't like him to horse around this way – it was risky enough for Dexter to be outside of DexLabs, as they both well knew. Now was not the time for jokes._

_"Dexter! Over here!"_

_A figure in the shadows, a familiar form and gesture and voice. Only the motivation seemed awry. And why _Dexter _when Ben almost always called him _Dex_, especially when they were alone?_

_"Ben?" he asked, frowning. "What are you doing over there?" He moved as he spoke, going to the edge of the tree line but unwilling to venture further. He didn't do forests any more than he did swamps, taxi cabs, or public bathrooms. Ben knew that perfectly well. "Come out of there."_

_"I don't think so," said the voice, suddenly cold, and the speaker lunged._

_With a gasp he tried to backpedal. He barely had time to register that this person only _looked_ like Ben. An iron grip clamped down on his arm and yanked him forward into a terrific blow to the head. Like sand through his fingers, consciousness slipped away and he fell into darkness and his attacker's arms. _

**_()()()()()()()()()()_**

He desperately wanted to clean the blood from his glasses. It was a relief when Albedo finally moved from behind him, back into his line of sight. Deliberately Dexter clasped his hands behind him, as much to keep himself from rubbing his aching head (sure to have lumps and bruises) as to get an idea if he had anything left in his coat pockets.

By the slight motion he could tell his cell phone was gone, which came as no surprise, but if this monster had appropriated his calculator then truly there was no god. His DexLabs and DexCorp ID's and access cards, usually clipped to his front pocket, were missing. Not that they would do Albedo any good, short of souvenirs.

The motion revealed something else – something sobering and telling. There had been an addition to his wardrobe. As the fingers of his right hand reached around his left wrist in a gesture that was the habit of a lifetime, his hand closed around a stiff cuff. He stilled, trying to conceal his surprise as his fingers felt the band. So far as he could tell it was lightweight, inflexible, a few millimeters thick, and completely featureless.

Albedo smirked, his burned features twisting into a mockery of a smile as he watched his victim.

"And what's this?" he taunted. "Go ahead and look, Dexter."

He didn't obey immediately, but took his time lifting his left arm. Deliberately he overlooked the dirt on his coat and glove, knowing that if he focused on the stains he'd grow hysterical. The cuff seemed metallic and had a dull sheen, fitting too tight to slide over his hand even if he removed his glove. There was no seam on it that he could see or anything to indicate its function. He tried to peek beneath it, but it was too snug.

"What is this?" he asked because it was expected.

"You'll find out."

He was rather afraid he would. It seemed he had found Albedo's means of exacting his revenge. How it worked and what it did was a mystery, but something told Dexter nothing good would come of such a device. It had been forcefully applied, and therefore it was here only to be used against him.

Lowering his arm, he stood in place and tried to determine the most sensible thing to do and say. His options were severely limited. Given Albedo's approach to him thus far, anything and everything he did or tried to do would be wrong.

"And now?" he asked softly.

"You can enjoy the same hospitality I did with your Fusion. Do you know what he did to me when he first captured me?" wondered Albedo, as if Dexter had some ownership and was somehow privy to the inner workings of his alien doppleganger. There was an underlying anger in Albedo's tone. Understandable, though his hatred of Dexter was illogical. "He locked me in a cell without food or water as he ran off for a final showdown with Tennyson."

He gave no reply. He knew the battle well. He had listened to it, analyzed it, almost lost Ben in it . . .

Albedo leaned in close to hiss in his ear, savoring the chance to frighten and the power he held.

"He didn't return for four days."


	5. Darkfic

**Chapter 4: Darkfic**

As much as he could manage it, Dexter kept his eyes closed.

It was a simple tactic, one he had used before to try and control his fear of the dark. It wasn't easy pretending that there was light which he chose not to look at, but the effort was distracting enough to work for the most part.

The darkness was complete. Absolute. He very cautiously checked, and there was not a hint of light, which was disorienting in and of itself. Added to that, there was no sound. He was entombed. Sealed off. He could just imagine Albedo subjecting himself to the confines of this cell just to be sure that Dexter would suffer the same conditions he had endured. Such effort struck Dexter as supremely silly, and it lowered Albedo in his estimate.

He contemplated making a ruckus just for the sake of having some noise – singing or shouting or reciting mathematical principles aloud - but it occurred to him that Albedo had probably wasted a great deal of time and energy yelling and whining at the absent Fusion Dexter. If he was going to be subject to all of Albedo's discomforts while a captive, he certainly wasn't going to emulate his responses. He kept his silence and kept his eyes closed and tried his very best to keep calm and hoped he was driving Albedo out of his mind in the process. The Galvan would be looking for a reaction out of him, probably hoping for something worse than the way he himself had acted. Dexter resolved to disappoint him.

Albedo had already made several mistakes in the psychological war he was trying to wage. The desire to gloat was a failing and something Professor Utonium had (mostly) exorcised from Dexter long ago. By telling Dexter his intent, Albedo allowed Dexter to plan countermeasures. Four days without food and water would be extremely uncomfortable, but not impossible. It would have been far worse to simply be chucked into this darkness not knowing if there was to be an end, as Albedo had been.

He sensed that despite his show of anger and claim of wanting vengeance, Albedo was not a genuinely evil person. He could not compare to Vilgax or the Fusion Dexter, for example, but then few beings could. Ben had categorized Albedo as a very smart nuisance, but lacking the experience and resources to be upgraded to a genuine, active threat.

Of course what worked for the Wielder of the Omnitrix, war hero and athlete, didn't necessarily work for the Boy Genius, science nerd. At the moment, Albedo was most definitely a threat. It remained to be seen if his heart was truly behind this thirst for vengeance. There was also the question of sanity and if Albedo could still lay a claim to it. He had his doubts. That his psyche was as damaged as his body was evident.

The cell he was locked in without food or water was as rough and uneven as the rest of the tunnels in this place. Dexter had no idea of what this place was or where it might be – a mine or excavation for sewers or unfinished construction, he could not say. He just knew it was damp and smelly and dirty and he was stuck here. For Dexter, simply being in the dark and dirt was torture enough, let alone the discomfort of no food or water and the promise of worse things to come.

In the summer between fourth and fifth grade, back when he was still living with his parents and only just getting to know the Utoniums, his old friend Douglas Mordecai had gone to San Francisco on vacation. Douglas came back with a terrible case of sun poisoning and a die-cast trolley car that Dexter still kept on a shelf in his bedroom and some fascinating stories about the prison on Alcatraz Island. One story in particular stood out in Dexter's memory – how prisoners in isolation, to keep their hands and minds occupied, would twist a button off their uniforms and throw it across their cell. In the darkness they would search for the button, feeling the floor and groping about until they located their prize, only to toss the button away again to keep the game going.

It was a simple and elegant means of confronting the oppressiveness of isolation. Dexter had been struck with admiration for such a small act of defiance. It seemed to him rather remarkable that he should now be able to relate to criminals in a high-security prison, because he was mentally debating which button he was willing to sacrifice from his lab coat if he happened to get so bored as to need such a distraction.

Given how much he had to think about, it would be a long while before he reached that point. According to Albedo he had four days of darkness and deprivation to look forward to, followed by who knew what sort of torment. True to form, Dexter put the time to work for him - or at least he tried to. His initial success was negligible.

Logic told him to be productive and analyze what had happened and why, but initially his heart and mind were weighed down with regret and he indulged in more than a little bit of wallowing in misery. They never should have left DexLabs, at least not alone. He had broken protocol by leaving without a weapon, too, but Ben had been with him and even if he had been armed, he knew perfectly well he would not have been able to shoot Albedo. He'd been too shocked at his appearance and . . . well, he looked too much like Ben.

If only they had turned around when Ben wanted. If only he hadn't insisted Ben get his smoothy. If only he'd gone inside the eatery. They could have spent the night together making love . . .

Sitting with his back to the wall and his knees bent close, he rested his head on his folded arms. The motion brought him into contact with the metal cuff affixed to his arm, and he glowered a moment before finding a comfortable position in which to waste time moping. Anger at Albedo flared up in him, a juvenile but perfectly human response as his inner child stamped his feet and railed against the heavens.

_I had a date!_

He should be naked right now. Naked in bed or in the shower or on the kitchen table or living room carpet – anywhere but here. He should be tired sweaty and sore with Ben's weight on him and in him as they stumbled and laughed and learned the nuances of making love. The day should have ended with smug satisfaction on both their parts. Instead he was sitting on his butt in some dirty, subterranean hideout with an aching head and a crazed alien trapped in his boyfriend's DNA for a jailor. Most people would be quaking in terror right now, which was probably Albedo's intent, but at the moment he was just too pissed off to be afraid. If Albedo had entered the cell at that moment, Dexter's verbal assault probably would have made the Galvan's ears bleed. What god he had offended he could not say, but some snarky cosmic power seemed intent on foiling Dexter's every plan to get laid. He'd finally gotten over himself, Ben had pretty much gotten over Kevin, and now this. Dexter knew sex was complex, but did it really have to be so _difficult_?

Of course, there was the possibility that Albedo intended to do to him everything the Fusion Dexter had done. Ben had theorized that rape had been among the abuses that Albedo had endured. It was more than a little disturbing to think that his Fusion copy was capable of such atrocities or to imagine the logistics, but then Fusions somehow twisted and perverted the emotions the person they resembled was feeling at the time of their creation. To this day DexLabs Security and the Professor were unsure _how_ a sample of Dexter's DNA had been obtained, but Dexter suspected DeeDee's empty-headed affections had been exploited by Planet Fusion. There was no doubt, though, that the sample had been gathered _after_ he had fallen madly in love with Ben. Nothing else could explain the Fusion's obsession with Tennyson and his short-lived interest in Albedo.

And in its own sick way, that would explain how and why his doppleganger would be capable of rape. Fusions had a limited capacity for emotion, and usually what they did feel was negative. Unbridled lust was quite possibly the closest thing a Fusion could get to experiencing love since the only emotions they seemed to express well were intense anger and hatred.

Was Albedo capable of such an act? He didn't want to think so, but clearly Albedo could and would get violent, at least with Ben and Dexter. Ben had told him Albedo had made several attempts to steal the Omnitrix. He wasn't above extortion and kidnapping to get what he wanted, and he'd already said he wanted Dexter to pay for what had been done to him.

What to do? What could he do? If Albedo was bent on recreating his own suffering – as if that would serve some purpose – then perhaps the best thing Dexter could do would be to change the situation.

Then there was this cuff on his arm. He traced the metal band, trying to bend or loosen it or find a seam. There was nothing. He wondered at it. Was it something his Fusion double had made and used on Albedo, or was this the Galvan's brainchild? Outside of the Omnitrix he had no notion of Galvan aesthetics or tastes, and so he could not say if the featureless device was in keeping with alien design. He did know that the color and curved edges of it echoed his own designs, so it stood to reason his mimic would copy him in this.

It had to be a control of sorts. He thought long and hard about it, and all he could conclude was that he really didn't want to find out what it did. There was no doubt in his mind he'd regret such knowledge.

Time, whatever that meant in this pit, dragged by. Dexter kept his silence and his fears in check and his eyes tightly closed. The lack of water was quickly noticeable and physically discomforting, but as time advanced, greater concerns than his own comfort took precedence in his thoughts. He was worried for the Professor, knowing his father would be frantic. His sisters would be looking for something to tear apart to find him. And Ben. Had he been captured as well? Or was he free? Dexter had seen what guilt could do his boyfriend, and he knew perfectly well that Ben would feel fully responsible for his kidnapping. Ben would look back to his confrontation with Albedo in Bellwood and blame himself for not stopping the Galvan then even though he was too hurt to try. He would look further back, to the Battle of Citiesville, and wonder if he could have done something then to save Albedo even though he hadn't been able to save himself. He would blame himself for the misdeeds of others and for not being able to stop everything bad that happened to the people he loved.

Dexter drew a deep breath and held it, slowly exhaling as he forced himself to remain calm. Fear was the enemy as much as Albedo or Vilgax or Fuse. He would not give in and Ben, he knew, would not lose.

His family would not rest until they found him. Of that he had no doubt.

All he needed to do was survive.


	6. Backstory

**Chapter 5: Backstory**

_A/N This chapter contains mention of sexual abuse. It's nothing graphic - literally, just mention of it. Consider yourselves warned._

**_()()()()()()()()()()_**

The silence was maddening.

Coming from Albedo, that conclusion was rather significant. He had met and matched madness long ago, leaving him something of an expert on the subject.

And now, it seemed, he had met his match.

Though not immediately apparent to the casual observer (if there could be one down here in these tunnels with him - it seemed unlikely though his mind refused to rule out the possibility entirely), the cell he'd prepared was occupied. He knew that. He'd bodily shoved Dexter in there and locked the heavy door himself, and so he refused to open it and check. But the complete lack of sound since that moment two days ago was unnerving to say the least, and doubt, something Albedo had rarely  
experienced, was creeping into his thoughts. It was so unexpectedly quiet (not that he would have admitted to screaming for hours on end to be released when held captive by the Fusion Dexter) that he began to wonder if Dexter was alive.

He was alive. Of course he was. Not even someone so scrawny and undersized could perish from want in two days or even four. He wasn't meant to die anyway. He was here to _suffer,_ and so he would. Suffer for not being his Fusion just as Albedo had suffered for not being Ben Tennyson. He would know every sort of pain and fear the Fusion had inflicted on his helpless captive. He would face the same brutal punishment, feel the burn of acid and shame alike (and the shame was infinitely worse). Let him be starved and beaten and face the gross indignity of . . .

Pacing in the barely-lit corridor, his sneakers caked with mud, Albedo paused in his mental tirade, highly aware of his own hesitation to continue the thought with any sort of emotional detachment. Would he be able to go as far as the Fusion had? Was he, Albedo of the Galvan, capable of an act so base and lowly as to force himself upon another being? The Fusion had used him like a toy, a _thing_ - something without emotions or nerve endings or sometimes even without a spine. How many times had that thing raped him? It had been rape, even though for the Fusion the act was simply motion, with no real satisfaction outside of physically dominating a copy of Ben Tennyson.

He paused in his pausing, then shook his head, bringing himself back to this version of reality, slanted though it may be. He was getting ahead of the immediate issue. He would deal with that later. Right now, he wanted to establish if his prisoner was or was not present and accounted for. There was no way out of the cell save the door, and that was secured. Albedo had been staring at it for hours. Days. Dexter was in there and he was alive.

Or so logic told him.

However, logic and his imagination - both tainted by human emotions and hormones, to be sure, not to mention poisoned by the noxious odors Tennyson's body created of its own accord, especially after consuming chili fries - were not exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment.

Perhaps he might be going about this the wrong way. Such admittance didn't come easily to him, even if no one but he was privy to the confession. He didn't know much about Dexter, but he hadn't thought that was really necessary, given the circumstances. Smart as Dexter may claim to be, he, Albedo of the Galvan, had to be smarter. It was simply impossible for anyone the same race as Ben Tennyson to be anywhere near as intelligent as the smartest race in five galaxies, arguably seven. Nothing less was acceptable. Hadn't he managed to kidnap one of the most heavily guarded and monitored people alive? Snatch him from Tennyson's teeth, no less! He could keep Dexter, too, and no one would ever be the wiser.

He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets in a very Tennyson-like gesture, and his hand brushed the small electronic device he carried. A smile touched his once-handsome features as he considered the small unit that gave him absolute command of the situation. That cuff, copied and adapted from the one Albedo had worn for a month or more in the Fusion's lair in Citiesville, would do more than control Dexter. It hid him from the electronic monitoring he was so dependent upon to keep him safe. It  
only made sense, after all. The original design had come right from Dexter's own mind, twisted and evil copy though it might be.

When he'd been held by the Fusion Dexter, Albedo had shouted and made demands and worn himself out, which went far toward worsening his own condition. In light of this boy's stoicism, the transformed Galvan had a vague sense of embarrassment for his conduct, even though no one but he knew about it. He was being outdone by a human child who was literally doing absolutely nothing, and he felt the sting to his ego with keen intensity. How dare Dexter face the same situation with poise, with dignity even. How _dare_ he outdo Albedo of the Galvan!

His ego had always been easily pricked, but never so much as when he'd rather unwillingly taken up residence on this miserable, backwater planet populated by imbeciles who had no appreciation for his genius. It was only marginally better than being a prisoner of the Plumbers. At least here he had easy access to chili fries, his only weakness.

He also had access to Ben Tennyson, who was in possession of Albedo's only desire: the Omnitrix. Azmuth's device was the key to regaining his true form and returning to Galvan Prime. It was as pathetic as it was demeaning that he should need a lowly human for anything. But how to wrest it away from Tennyson? In the past he had tried a number of means to gain the Omnitrix. So far trickery and brute force and threats had all failed him. Subtlety and persuasion had fallen on deaf (and idiotic) ears.

And now . . . Albedo had Dexter.

This wasn't exactly the situation he had planned out in his mind when he'd stumbled across this hiding place. It was actually supposed to be Tennyson occupying the small, dark cell, but Dexter sitting alone at the restaurant had been too tempting to pass by, and considering what Albedo owed him - or at least owed his Fusion doppleganger - Dexter would serve very well. There had always been the (very likely) possibility that he would not be able to remove the Omnitrix from Tennyson's arm once he captured his double, and unless unconscious or immobilized, there was always the possibility of him transforming into another form and escaping. Dexter, whose only claim to being a threat was his supposed intellect, was a laughably soft target.

Unlike the Fusion he had fathered . . .

He snatched his thoughts away from the memory of the Fusion and resisted the urge to touch the wounds the creature had inflicted. His dreams (yet another aggravating human weakness) were haunted enough. He had worked long and hard (and though he would not admit it, unsuccessfully) to rid his waking moments of the creature's frightening presence.

If Tennyson had a weakness (and Albedo felt his double had too many to list) that was easily exploited, however, it was undoubtedly his emotional attachments to people. That Tennyson and Dexter were close was evident, but how close? Close enough for Tennyson to go to any end to get him back? A foolish question. Tennyson was hopelessly noble and willing to risk his hide for complete strangers, even his enemies. He'd do anything to play the hero and get his scrawny little friend back. Of that Albedo had no doubt.

Provided Dexter was still in the cell. And alive.

Why was he so concerned over the survival of an annoying human? Was it because Dexter's Fusion had been so savagely ruthless that the fear he'd felt in its presence carried over to this boy? Though Fusion doubles tended to have very limited, base emotions, Dexter's copy had proven far more complex than the average doppleganger. In Albedo's reckoning, that said more about Dexter than his copy. Especially since Dexter himself didn't fill Albedo with fear. In their brief contact, Albedo had received a very different sense, one he could not yet define. Yet.

Or was it something else that sparked this obsession? Dexter was small and slim, almost delicate, and his hair was even darker red than that of the self-absorbed-but-nearly-as-annoying-as-her-cousin Gwen Tennyson. His eyebrows, Albedo had noted, were quite elegant and his eyes were very blue. Almost the same color of earth's sky.

The Galvan paused in his pacing, pulling a very human expression of disgust. Why had he noted _that?_ It was a fact and nothing more. Dexter's eyes were blue. What shade of blue made no difference. Why was his mind attaching poetic nonsense to such an observation?

He had several options open to him. He could wait in annoying uncertainty for another two days. He could barge into the cell and pretend it had been four days since Dexter's incarceration. The lack of light was disorienting and Dexter might not be able to gauge the amount of time passed. Or he could activate the cuff Dexter wore. Stoic though he may be, the jolt of pain Albedo could cause would be sure to tear a scream from the boy's lips, thus proving quickness and presence with a single effort. Somehow that seemed like . . . cheating. Not that he wasn't perfectly capable of being underhanded of course, but he didn't want to play his hand so early in this affair . . .

And still that maddening silence reigned. Albedo folded his arms across his chest with an impatient huff, staring at the door. Why was this consuming him so completely?

A minute passed. Nothing. Anger began to replace the pointless concern he felt.

Losing all patience with himself and Dexter, the Galvan gave in to temptation. A few quick strides across the corridor, and he threw back the heavy lock on the door, yanking it open in one hard motion. His voice erupted in fury when he saw his prisoner sitting on the floor opposite the doorway.

_"Dexter!"_


	7. Crime and Punishment

**Chapter 6: Crime and Punishment  
**

_"Dexter!"_

For one glorious, heart-stopping moment he thought it was Ben, his Ben, here to rescue him. Dexter's head snapped up, his eyes opening wide at the shout. After two days of complete darkness it took a few moments for his vision to adjust, but by the faint light it was almost immediately evident that this was not his boyfriend.

Albedo was furious, his chest heaving and his fists clenched tightly. Dexter could only guess why, but given that the Galvan was not in his right mind by any stretch, he thought it wise to try to divert this show of temper as best he could. He had been figuring out vectors in his head, tracking the long equations on his fingers, and before Albedo had a chance to shout again, he swallowed what little moisture there was in his mouth and quietly asked,

"What is the square root of 638.1?"

It worked. Albedo was astonished, his rage derailed if only for a second or two. It sufficed to calm him a little. He gaped speechlessly and then slowly said, "25.2606."

"Thank you."

He lost track of his calculations, lowering his head so as not to betray the crushing disappointment he felt. No Ben. Not yet. Pursing his lips, Dexter fought to steel his emotions. He would have to be patient - more patient than he wanted to be - and very cautious in dealing with Albedo. He had never had direct interaction with someone that was violently unstable and he wasn't certain the hostage training he'd received would be enough for him to handle Albedo. That the promised time in isolation had not passed yet was evident - Dexter was not nearly as dehydrated as he should be after four days without food or water. He was uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as he would be when the allotted time was past. So what was Albedo doing here now?

"What are you doing?" demanded his captor.

Rallying himself, Dexter looked up again. He wasn't wearing his glasses since they were unnecessary in the dark, and he squinted to see a bit better. "I'm working on vectors."

"Why?"

It was a silly question and evidently Albedo didn't know what else to say. Keeping his tone neutral, Dexter answered in a voice that was raspy and soft,

"I've been developing a new hover board design, something lighter and narrower than the original one I invented, and now I'm working on making it more aerodynamic."

"Why?" Albedo demanded again, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Dexter paused, not certain of what to say but fairly sure his captor expected a reply. "It's my job. It's what I do."

If there was a right answer - and upon reflection, Dexter realized there really wasn't - that was not it. A furious scream escaped Albedo and he struck Dexter with his fist. Pain and light exploded in Dexter's head as the unexpected assault knocked him flat.

"No!" shouted Albedo. "That's not why I brought you here!"

Oh, this was absurd. Dexter carefully stood up, pressing hard on the spot where the blow had landed. His head already ached terribly and he was feeling the effects of dehydration - apparently he was expected to be hysterical as well. Did Albedo actually think every waking moment would be spent in a state of panic? Was that what he had done, and now the same was expected of Dexter?

"Is it I'm not suffering enough for you?" he asked a little more snidely than was perhaps wise.

Once again, he'd said exactly the wrong thing. It was frightening and horrifying to see Ben's face wear such a malicious sneer as Albedo now focused on him. In a swift motion he thrust his hand into the pocket of his red jacket and pulled out a device that Dexter could barely see.

"No," growled Albedo, glaring hard at him, allowing Dexter to know he had hit on the precise issue of contention. "No, you're not suffering enough. Not nearly enough. Fortunately I have the means to correct that little oversight right here."

He keyed a control on the device he held. Suddenly burning white pain flowed through Dexter's entire body. A strangled scream escaped his throat as agony consumed him. Every nerve was on fire. He had never felt such pain, never imagined it was possible to feel so much pain all at once. It was as if the very fiber of his being was being brutally dismantled molecule by molecule. He thought it immobilized him, but he was wrong - he never felt the impact as he dropped to the floor of the cell.

The agony seemed to last forever, but just as suddenly as it had hit, it was gone. Dexter found himself flat on the ground, in the dirt, still writhing and his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He was sobbing and drooling and his nose was running with moisture he could ill afford to lose right now, but he could not possibly control his own responses.

And now he knew exactly what the device on his arm was for: torture.

Cool red eyes watched with sadistic amusement as Dexter struggled to master himself. Albedo crouched down beside him, examining him with interest as if Dexter was the subject of some new experiment. In Ben's voice - but mercifully not his inflection - the Galvan gloated,

"I believe this is what you humans would term 'a taste of your own medicine.'"

Faintly Dexter whispered, "I haven't done anything to hurt you, Albedo."

"On the contrary. All the fascination your Fusion holds for Tennyson and all its twisted malice comes straight from _you_." He waved the control at him. "This device came straight out of your mind and imagination. You're no innocent. You're the one most responsible for that thing's existence."

"Fuse is responsible for unleashing the Fusions," he argued, his words slurring.

"Brought here only because you had developed weapons capable of combating Planet Fusion."

"Were we supposed to sit back and let them win?"

He gasped in fresh pain and surprise when a hand gripped his hair and Albedo pulled him up for a better look. Despite their close proximity, Dexter's poor vision and lingering discomfort kept him from noticing the expression Albedo wore. It was just as well - he had enough fodder to fuel his nightmares already, and the hungry interest in those red eyes would have filled him with panic.

"Wasn't that enjoyable?" mused Albedo. "I believe that might have hurt you even more than it hurt me the first time," he observed, masking his emotion with an over-the-top display of contempt. "Then again, thanks to Tennyson's DNA, I _am_ a quarter Anodite. Perhaps I should learn how to manipulate mana. If that strumpet cousin of his can, I should be able to do so with ease."

Shoved away, Dexter lacked the strength to keep himself from falling back heavily. Albedo stood over him, gloating. The hard-packed floor was cool and despite the smell and the dirt, it was soothing to his aching and abused form. Carefully he rolled to his side, the memory of the pain still bright and echoing in every cell of his body. His limbs were leaden and he could barely move. He didn't want to move. He never wanted to move again . . .

Ben would have told him to stay put. His father and bodyguard would have ordered him to do the same. But he was Dexter. He was, according to the Professor, the very definition of stubbornness. The same indomitable spirit that drove him to create while ignoring the existence of the impossible, that made him pit himself and everything he had accomplished against the might of Lord Fuse, now made him slowly gain his feet again and face his captor. He was Dexter, Boy Genius, Founder of DexLabs, and the son of Patrick Utonium. There was only one person in the whole universe he would lay down for.

And that person sure as hell wasn't Albedo.

It was a mistake to challenge insanity. Albedo gave him a hard look and a sneer. "You should have stayed on the ground, Dexter. It is your place, after all, and I like you more there."

And he activated the cuff again.


End file.
